Black Madonna
by Maladetto Lupo
Summary: A Spike/Dru songfic based on the A Perfect Circle song “Magdalena”


Spoilers: Not much. Perhaps "Fool For Love."  
Author: Maladetto Lupo (Keith Duval)  
E-Mail: Lobishomen@aol.com  
Rating: PG-13/R, for sexual overtones  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters portrayed herein. They are copyright, well, you know. I just thank them for letting me have my way with them.  
Distribution: Absolutely, just drop me a line first.  
Summary: A Spike/Dru songfic based on the A Perfect Circle song "Magdalena"  
  
BLACK MADONNA  
  
He watched her body sway, slowly, maddeningly, as if she were directing the winds themselves with every curve of her form. The moonlight shone through her hair, glinting in her eyes, those dark, fierce, predatory eyes that he could never seem to look away from. There was no music, but he felt the deep, lazy, sensuous beat in his mind, following the nuances of her dance with absolute precision...  
  
"Overcome by your...roving temple.   
Overcome by this...holiest of altars."  
  
And for a moment, he knew what she meant, when she talked of the moon. She said it sang to her. It told her things. Wonderful, dreadful things. As he watched her hips slide here and there, here and there, he knew. He heard them, too. They told of love and lust, of pain and pleasure. They told of weeping angels and smiling devils, of the fires of passion and of hot blood that runs in shining rivers down your throat.  
  
"So pure, so rare, to witness such an earthly goddess.  
I've lost my self-control, beyond compelled to throw this dollar down  
Before your...holiest of altars."  
  
He stood, and went to her. She giggled, backing away, wagging her finger. She mouthed "No, no, naughty boy." He stopped, smiling. He loved it when she played these games. He shot her a "Who me?" sort of look, taking another step forward.  
  
She growled at him, showing her teeth in a big, white grin, like the Cheshire Cat might, if the Cheshire Cat had a mouse in its grasp and was about to tear it apart. For a moment, he wondered if she might be serious. And for a moment, he wondered if he might want her to be.  
  
"I'd sell my soul, my self-esteem, a dollar at a time  
For one chance, one kiss, one taste of you, my Magdalena."  
  
He remembered that dingy alley, so long ago. His eyes filled with tears, hair matted and stringy, sobbing into torn shreds of paper; the poems he'd written for her... what's-her-name. The one who destroyed him. He knows damn well what her name is, but he won't allow himself to think it. She tore out his heart and spit in his face. Three little words, and the weight of the world crushed him to dust: "You're beneath me."   
  
No. She doesn't deserve his pain. Not like her. She's earned every drop of it, and he'd give her a thousand times more. She saved him. She came, lifted him up and held him to her, and his eyes were opened. He felt his heart beat for the last time...for the first time... and then the pain...Oh God, the pain. It was electric...terrifying... exquisite. She gave him eternity, and he'd gladly give her forever in return.  
  
"I'd bear witness to this place, this prayer so long forgotten...  
So pure, so rare, to witness such an earthly goddess."  
  
He watched the feline grin melt into a serpentine smile, and the wagging finger that had scolded him now beckoned him closer as she swung and writhed to the music that wasn't there. She led with slow, long, backward steps, and he followed without question, lost in those deep, deep eyes. And all at once, she stopped, and he stopped, and then she was upon him, hurting him slowly at first, dragging her long, sharp nails down his chest, and playfully licking his wounds as he winced in pain and ecstasy. And then the pain came faster, sharper, more primal, as she tore into him with her teeth, slashing here, and here, and there. He howled and laughed and twisted in her iron grip. There were some that said she was mad. And they were right. But oh what bliss, what sheer, unadulterated pleasure it was to be wrapped in that madness, to feel it around you, fluid and rhythmic, closing in like the ocean. Sometimes it scared him...but the fear made it that much better.   
  
Twisted limbs and snarling teeth and heavy breathing that was all for show, they spun and sank and rose and rolled through her world, the one that, for a moment, he thought he could see, brilliant blue and green, royal purple, and flecks of shimmering gold forever. He let his teeth close on her neck, and saw the world splash with delicious crimson...and he let himself slip, slip, slip beneath the waves.  
  
"I'd sell my soul, my self-esteem, a dollar at a time  
For one chance, one kiss, one taste of you, my Black Madonna.  
I'd sell my soul, my self-esteem, a dollar at a time  
For one taste, one taste, one taste of you, my Magdalena."  
  
  



End file.
